Chapter 30

When the chairman suggests going on a business trip together, which of the following is the correct response for an average employee?

1. I didn’t hear you well?

2. It’s an honor to our family.

3. There’s no need to bring out a sword meant for slaughtering cattle just to kill a chicken.

4. Actually, I’ve been preparing my resignation since yesterday.

…Not a single appropriate answer comes to mind.

For a moment, it felt like my brain had been bleached. Why insist on this?

If only I were in Carisia’s position, where I could command others with a flick of my fingers, I would have locked myself away in a back room and done nothing for the rest of my life. Clearly, capable and efficient superiors are bound to make their subordinates uncomfortable.

“Shouldn’t you be overseeing the fortification of Etna City?”

This was one of the reasons why we involved Caike and Geryon in staging a war simulation. With the excuse of a conflict between three magic towers, it provided a plausible reason to redevelop the entire city.

Carisia wanted Etna City to possess sufficient defensive capabilities not for a staged war but for a real battle against White Light Tower in the future.

“At this point, everyone’s tasks have already been assigned.”

“In case of unforeseen accidents or emergencies, your leadership will be necessary.”

“A proper organization should function effectively even if its top manager is temporarily absent. This is an opportunity to evaluate the flexibility of our response abilities.”

Carisia’s resolve was firm. I massaged my temples.

“If that’s what the chairman wishes, there’s nothing to be done about it. The next location I’ve earmarked for the trip is here.”

I pointed at a spot on the map. According to Blasphemia’s annotations, the place was marked as “One of the ruins of the vanished gods. No divine energy detected. Original purpose unclear.” But I knew its true nature.

“A ruin with an unclear past, huh? You’ve always loved adventures.”

“Hardly. I prioritize peace and stability above all else. There’s simply a reason I must go to this place. In fact, it’s not as unclear as it seems.”

***

Ortes spoke confidently, as he always did in front of Carisia.

“That place is the temple of Phobos Proopsios, known in modern language as the ‘Radiant Prophet.’”

It was a name familiar to Carisia, even without the information injected into her by White Light Tower. It was a deity often mentioned in ancient tales.

The god who looked down from the highest heavens to observe the earth—known as the god of prophecy.

“There should still be a relic of this god at that site. Although it’s uncertain, it likely has the ability to foresee the future and warn of impending dangers.”

Though Ortes claimed uncertainty, his tone exuded deep confidence. At times like these, Carisia often felt she didn’t fully understand him.

She thought about Blasphemia. The deep enmity between Ortes and Blasphemia was also shared between herself and Blasphemia.

Thus, whatever secrets Ortes knew about Blasphemia, Carisia also knew.

‘They divided followers of superstitions into three tiers…’

Laymen, priests, and sect leaders. These were the common classifications for adherents of faiths.

However, theoretically, there were other positions: the Pope, ruler of all sect leaders who commanded the loyalty of every religious order.

Or the demigods, descendants of divine bloodlines whom even sect leaders dared not treat lightly.

As far as Carisia knew, Ortes understood the gods and their relics better than anyone else in this world.

And Ortes’ “eyes,” something even the wisdom transplanted into Carisia from Baegwang couldn’t easily comprehend, were products of unfathomable mysteries.

If the wisdom inherited from the Ten Sages couldn’t grasp the essence of his power, then the possibilities for his true identity were limited.

In this case, ignorance itself became a clue.

Several hypotheses surfaced in Carisia’s mind, only to fade away moments later.

‘Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway.’

What Ortes truly was mattered less than the fact that he was presently by her side.

***

‘Thank you, protagonist…!’

Of course, the ruins of Phobos and its relics that I confidently identified were things that appeared in the original story.

Upon seeing the gray temple carved from sandstone, reminiscent of Petra, I recognized it immediately.

While worrying about the trackers the resurrected protagonist might send from the Ten Towers, I recalled an ancient artifact. ‘There was one among the temples I personally demolished during my time as the Wizard King,’ I thought, deciding to retrieve it.

Originally powered by divine energy, the artifact rejected the magic of the wizards who brought about the downfall of the Age of Gods. However, in the original story, the protagonist ingeniously modified it on the spot to demonstrate his competence.

It also served as a device to showcase how the protagonist wrapped himself in alarm spells and prescient magic as soon as he regained some of his magical powers, though they were used only a few times for actual warnings.

Had I been someone who wished for the world to follow the original storyline, I wouldn’t have touched such items.

But my goal was to change the broken future of the original story and live quietly in prosperity. I had no qualms about appropriating the protagonist’s tools.

No, wait…

Thinking about it, it was originally because of him that Carisia died, leading to the world’s deterioration.

‘Forget the thanks.’

***

A mail was sent to the board members of Hydra Corp. It contained a link for a video conference. The announcement was simple.

Carisia would accompany Ortes on the upcoming business trip.

Arabel could see through the screen that Ortes’ expression was subtly distorted.

Whether it was joy at being with Carisia or guilt over troubling the chairman due to his own inadequacy, she couldn’t tell.

‘With that man’s temperament, it could be both.’

“Divinity…”

The video conference, more of an announcement than a discussion, ended quickly. Afterward, Arabel pondered Hydra Corp’s goals.

‘If Ortes was truly Blasphemia’s secret inspector…’

If the basis of the information that uncovered Caike’s hidden lair over the past few decades came from Blasphemia’s capabilities, many questions would be resolved.

Blasphemia had long known the whereabouts of Caike, the heretic of the Ten Towers, but hadn’t acted because they judged the completion of the Artificial Tenth Rank impossible.

However, for some reason, Ortes knew there was a possibility that Caike could indeed complete the Artificial Tenth Rank and found his hideout based on that information.

Perhaps that was the connection.

At the same time, new questions arose.

‘If ascension truly means becoming a god, as Caike said, did the Ten Towers already know that it was possible through divine energy?’

If so, why had they continued to oppress religious sects as mere superstitious followers all this time? Was there a reason they couldn’t tolerate another form of ascension?

Among the endless chain of questions, one conclusion stood out.

“What exactly is Ortes up to…?”

If it weren’t for that cryptic email from the branch director about the secret inspector, she wouldn’t have had to rack her brain so much.

Arabel glared at the now darkened screen.

***

One of the reasons I accepted Carisia’s company relatively calmly was my judgment that this task wouldn’t be too difficult.

It’s an artifact the protagonist obtained early in the original story. If it had been harder to get, he would have waited until he grew stronger before retrieving it.

Blasphemia’s report reinforced my conviction.

Just an ordinary ruin, deemed unworthy of investigation. This ruin requires specific methods for authentication; otherwise, it’s just a pile of old stones. Since Blasphemia lacked that knowledge, they evaluated it as unnecessary to investigate further after merely touching the stones.

‘They must have written the report hastily because it was cold.’

Damn. The temple of Phobos-whatever-it-was was located atop a snowy mountain.

Even though environmental changes caused by extraplanar magic aren’t uncommon, this level of cold on a mountain that wasn’t particularly high was excessive.

Blasphemia’s people must have thought, “Ah, it’s cold, let’s just wrap up the survey and go home.”

This wasn’t just regular cold. It felt like the malevolence of some transcendent being seeping into the cracks of my skin.

Perhaps it was a magical frost.

“Are you cold?”

“It’s colder than expected. Strange, given that Phobos’ divinity is akin to the sun, not snow or winter.”

To Carisia, this freezing weather probably felt like a mild chill. Must be the abundance of magic power.

Given that non-magical individuals feel the cold more intensely, it was clear some ill-tempered wizard had cast a peculiar spell here.

“Still, it’s fortunate the mountain isn’t very tall. There’s the ruin ahead.”

In the distance, ancient stone pillars inscribed with mythological symbols began to appear.

***

Carisia’s eyes caught sight of the ruins Ortes had mentioned.

A structure carved directly into the cliff at the summit. A massive gray granite door stretched across the cliff face, its shadow seeming to hold the mystery of ancient times.

Even to Carisia, accustomed to the towering skyscrapers of the present era, the sight was grandiose. However, as they approached, the marks of time became evident.

Parts of the finely carved mythological scenes were blurred and eroded beyond recognition, and the once-polished floors were uneven and pitted.

Clearly, the effects of prolonged exposure to wind and rain were apparent. Upon closer inspection, the darkness enveloping the ruins felt less mysterious and more melancholic, a testament to their long abandonment.

Into this dim, desolate space, Ortes stepped forward.